


Let's Kill Hitler

by Johnismyloveforever64



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Dentistry, Gen, Medical, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-02-12 01:25:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 15,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2090517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnismyloveforever64/pseuds/Johnismyloveforever64
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While in Hamburg, the boys encounter an unlikely historical figure, who may or may not be the death of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Can it Hurt Anywhere But Here?

) the boys were in Hamburg in 1962 for a few months performing daily at the Top Ten club, and one day after a four hour set they were sitting at the back of the club with a round of beers. “Did you see that byrd in the second row?” John was saying. Paul just slowly shook his head as he drank from his beer, he then winced and spit out the mouthful he had. The other three just stared at him.  
“Alright there, Paulie?” John asked.  
“Yeah…fine…” he muttered toying with his tooth.  
“What the Hell happened?” Ringo asked cleaning up the beer.  
“Sorry, I just…reacted…”  
“To what?” Ringo demanded.  
“I don’t know…my tooth…it just sort of…started hurting…out of nowhere. I don’t know…it just hurts.” They were still staring at him, “Yeah, that byrd was fab,” he said changing the subject.  
“You have a toothache?” John asked with a smirk.  
“Well…” he didn’t want them to keep talking about it. he was trying to pretend that he didn’t have one. “I wouldn’t call it a toothache. It’s more like…a little…” he thought about that, “a tooth light amount of occasional pain.” They weren’t buying it.  
“So, you have a toothache,” John corrected. He groaned and slammed his head on the table.  
“Let. It. go,” Paul emphasized. The other three just shrugged while Ringo ordered a new round of beers.  
“You okay?” George whispered, Paul nodded, but he knew he was lying.  
Later that night Paul and John were in their loo getting ready for bed. Paul brushed his teeth while John sat on the counter sketching out something for his wife. Paul glanced over at it. “I can’t believe you’re actually married,” he said with a mouthful of toothpaste.  
“It’s been three months, Paulie,” he replied with a smile. “I can’t believe it’s been three months, and she’s there and I’m stuck here.” He let out a heavy sigh. “How’s the tooth?” He asked. Paul shrugged, and stuck the toothbrush back in his mouth.  
“Ow,” he flinched dropping it in the sink. John plucked it up and handed it to him.  
“Yeah, it’s fine.”  
“You act as though you are the cornerstone of dental hygiene,” Paul muttered sarcastically spitting into the sink. John shrugged. “When’s the last time you brushed your teeth?” John snickered and picked up his toothbrush and pushed Paul over.  
“I still think you shouldn’t let this thing go,” he muttered with a mouthful of toothpaste.  
“Okay…sure…no,” he replied with a laugh. “Seriously, though, no.” John laughed to himself. “What?”  
“I didn’t think Macca was so afraid.” Paul’s eyes widened.  
“No! no way! I’m not afraid,” his voice was going up an octave. John snickered.  
“Yeah, right.”  
“No,” Paul retorted, “I’m completely fine with this.” John shrugged.  
“Then, tomorrow let me take you to the dentist.” Paul was stuck. He knew he really didn’t want to do this at all, but he didn’t want to look like a coward.  
“Fine, I’ll go, but I don’t know if we’ll have time before the shift.”  
“We’ll make it, don’t worry.” He brushed Paul’s arm. “K?” Paul nodded. “Now get your beauty sleep. Because we need to make it to the top.”  
“Top of what?” Paul asked tiredly.  
“Toppermost of the poppermost.” He hopped into the bottom bunk and Paul climbed into the top bunk. “Oh, and no snoring tonight.” Paul stuck his head over the bottom bunk.  
“I do not snore,” he objected. John laughed.  
“Yeah, and this country isn’t full of cracked out former Nazis,” he said turning out the lamp. Paul sighed and resigned to his bunk.


	2. Kroutland: A Place Full of Dr. Crazy Nazi Guys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul encounters the scariest dentist he's ever seen

The following day they arrived at a nearby dentist office that someone in the Top Ten recommended. Sitting in uncomfortable plastic chairs, Paul tapping his foot at a speedy rhythm, they waited for his dentist. “John, you aren’t seriously going to send me in there?” his voice was soft, but deadly serious. Growing up during World War Two England he knew a thing or two about Germans, and the idea of it frightened him.   
“Yes, that’s why we went all the way here instead of having phone sex with my wife,” John replied like it was obvious.   
“But…” Paul replied quietly. He started moving his hands like he didn’t know what to say.  
“I don’t know what this…” he mimicked Paul’s movements, “means.”  
“We’ve been in this country how long?”  
“I don’t know. Probably about six or seven months total,” he said shrugging. “Too much in my opinion,” he muttered thinking of his lovely Cynthia home pregnant while he was in this stupid country.   
“Haven’t you noticed that it is a bit…different than England?” Paul asked. John gave him a quizzical look. He pushed his shoulder.   
“What the Hell are you going on about, Macca?” Paul laughed.  
“Um…it’s just…we are in Kroutland. Home of the Crazy Krouts that bombed our lovely city when we were tots,” he reminded him, “They aren’t exactly the nicest bunch.”  
“Hey, everyone has been nice enough,” John argued.  
“Yeah…that’s waitresses, hotel attendants, and café owners. I’m talking about a different group of people. The people that aren’t out to please people, but the opposite. The people out to make people’s lives miserable,” Paul explained. John was even more confused.  
“What?”   
“This place, these people that work here, they are in the torture business! I am about to face the torture business of the torture country!” Paul tried not to shout.   
“Torture country?” John asked.  
“Johnny, you remember what they told us as kids. You know what happened in this country.”  
“To Jews.”  
“Yeah, and it was Krouts too!” he dropped his voice, “And, English people too.” John laughed.  
“Paulie, it’s been nearly twenty years. I think they got over their grudge by now,” John replied knowingly nodding. Paul shook his head.  
“John, think about it, they spent half of the 1940’s figuring out how to find new ways to torture people just in the medical sense. Like, not even Chinese Water Torture, but like…actual figuring out different ways to torture people with medical stuff. And, I’m sure there was some teeth shit happening then, too! So, I am dead is what I’m telling you, John. Dead,” he explained. John was shaking his head.  
“Paul, what part of Germany are we in?” John asked rethorically.   
“West, why?”  
“Who runs the West half of Germanland?” John asked.  
“The Americans,” he answered a little confused.   
“And, you know the Americans won’t torture us, right?” John replied.  
“Yeah…but it’s still…Germany.”  
“Paul, just relax. What’s the worst thing that can happen?” He asked.  
“I bet you the Jews asked themselves the same thing when Hitler took power,” Paul replied seriously, and John just busted up laughing.   
“You aren’t going to get killed,” he replied. Paul looked down.  
“Not killed, just tortured.”  
“Why do you think this?” John asked. Paul sighed before answering.  
“What’s America famous for?” He asked.  
“I don’t know, bills, babes, bombs,” he answered with a shrug.  
“And, what about France?” He asked.  
“Rude people and disgusting food,” John answered, “What is this? because I feel like I’m back in school again, and I flunked that.”  
“And, what are the Germans famous for?”  
“Killing Jews?” He answered. Paul shook his head.  
“That and…?” he prompted. John shrugged. “Torture! You remember that crazy Nazi the Americans had killed? the one that used to do all these freaky experiments?”  
“Yeah, Dr. Crazy Nazi Guy. I know him.”  
“Well, he was German! This is where they breed Dr. Crazy Nazi Guys!” Paul’s eyes went wide and his breathing was shallow. “That’s going to be me.”  
“I never knew you were so afraid of this.” Paul’s lip curled in anger.  
“I’m not—“ he protested, but was cut off by a large nurse calling his name. he gulped.   
“Do you want me to come with you?” John asked sympathetically. “You know, watch you get tortured.” Paul shook his head.  
“That’ll probably only make it worse.”  
“Are you sure? You might want a witness,” he suggested. John was smirking, and Paul knew he wasn’t serious. He stood up and started walking towards the woman. then, he looked back at John and sat right back down.   
“Tell my dad I love him, K?” John nodded. “And, don’t replace me with some German git that can’t play bass to save his life.” John chuckled and patted him on the back.  
“No one can replace you, Macca.” Paul smiled, but frowned simultaneously. So his lip was in this weird quivering state of happiness and sadness and sort of hung in between. “The German torture business is waiting.” Paul’s eyes widened as he faced the woman who was making a beeline for him. John pushed him out of his chair and he followed her in. he turned to look at him and pouted. John almost grabbed him and pulled him out of their clutches, but he stayed where he was trying to smile for him. secretly, he was scared for Macca. He agreed with him, but wouldn’t admit it. he just knew as the door shut behind him that Macca was a gonner.  
Sliding into the chair Paul gulped. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening to him. what did he ever do wrong to deserve such torture? He wished there was a panic button he could press. His doctor was digging through drawers and dropping sharp looking objects on a tray next to him. he had seen the movies about the Nazis and what they had done, and he felt like he was in one of them. he told himself he wouldn’t speak as to not reveal his English accent. The doctor turned to face him, and Paul’s eyes widened. standing in front of him was the scariest looking German he’d ever encountered. He was big, but not brutish like most of the Germans he encountered. It was his face that struck fear in Paul’s heart. He looked angry and hateful and everything you wouldn’t want a dentist to be. He had blue eyes that were ice cold and bored into Paul’s soul. And above his lip was a thick dark mustache that Paul had known too well. He was Paul’s worst nightmare, and he was leaning over Paul with something sharp. He gestured for Paul to open, and even though he was terrified he obeyed, mostly because he was terrified of what would happen if he didn’t.   
He didn’t say a word, his dentist. He just grunted and tutted every once in a while. He scrutinized Paul’s teeth carefully, and Paul was barely breathing. His hands shook violently, and he was sweating. The dentist hit a bad spot, and Paul screamed, and his dentist continued as if Paul hadn’t done anything. out in the waiting room, John’s head shot towards the door as he heard Paul scream. he resisted bursting through the door, but it was tough. He just stayed put, but was afraid he’d regret it.   
Paul tried to keep calm as the dentist continued to dig through his mouth. It hurt a lot, but he kept quiet. Eventually, the dentist put down his stuff and took a step back. he tore off his gloves and turned off his lamp. He looked straight at Paul, and in a hard thick German accent said, “Cavity.” Paul felt frozen where he was. He gestured for him to go, but he couldn’t move. He had had cavities before, but never by someone so…frightening. “You may go,” he continued. Paul slowly got up and left.


	3. Those Unmistakable Eyes

John was toying nervously with his shoe, and he was trying to hide how anxious he was. His head shot up when he saw Paulie exit the torture room. He tried to smile, but he knew that Paul was probably in serious pain. 

“How’d it go?” He asked in German accent. Paul sat down next to him.

“Oy, ache don’t nein,” he replied in a German accent. John laughed. “Cavity,” he answered in his normal voice. John looked sympathetic.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Paul shrugged.

“I’ve had them before, you know.” John shrugged.

“But, never by the Nazis,” he replied, and Paul laughed.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Paul replied, and they both laughed. “Do you think I’ll be okay?” He asked seriously. John shrugged. He wished he could tell him everything was going to be fine, but truthfully he had no idea. Everything that Paul had said earlier was all too real to him, and he knew that he was probably right. Plus, looking into the eyes of his best mate who he’d known for years, he just knew that something wasn’t right with him. he could see pain in his eyes, and the way his jaw was set he knew he was in pain. He resisted the urge to gasp. Instead he just pressed his hand to his. 

“You’ll be fine. Don’t be such a girl, Macs.” Paul chuckled. “Really, Flower Princess, you’ll be okay. I’ll keep you safe,” he said leaning close to his face. 

The door swung open and banged against the wall, and out stepped Paul’s dentist. He towered over John and Paul who suddenly grew very afraid. He walked up to him. John stopped breathing.

“You forgot this,” he said offering Paul his wallet. Then, he turned around and walked back into his office. Paul was frozen where he was.

“That’s the tooth driller?” John exclaimed. Pau weakly nodded, his lip quivering slightly. John grabbed him and pulled him into the lift. 

“What?” Paul asked confused. 

“Flower Princess,” Paul rolled his eyes at his nickname, “Did you see him?”

“Yes, considering he spent about fifteen minutes three inches away from my face,” Paul answered like it was obvious. 

“But, did you see him?” John asked seriously. Paul was seriously puzzled.

“What?” He asked befuddled. “You’re smoking something.”

“No. look. Your crazy Nazi dentist is Hitler,” he whispered. Paul could see how serious he was. He could see the fear in his eyes, and so he tried not to laugh, but was unsuccessful.

“He’s not Hitler, Sweetie. Hitler’s long dead. Don’t you remember? The Americans got him killed, remember?” He replied.

“Actually, he killed himself. He took poison and had his Nazis burn his body.”

“So, he’s still dead either way.”

“What if he isn’t?” John asked. 

“He is,” Paul insisted. Paul knew John was being silly, but he couldn’t figure out why he was trying to scare him like this. 

“Look, they say that that’s what happened to him, but even how he killed himself is debatable. Some say poison while others say he shot himself. But, how do we know? Who informed the Allies that he did this?”

“I…” Paul couldn’t answer.

“Most likely one of is Nazis, but what if that was all just a lie. What if the reason his body was never found was because he escaped, changed his name, and abandoned his empire? What if he’s still out there? he’s got to be, and do you know why?”

“Why?” 

“Because, we just saw him.”

“John, you’re crazy. What makes you think that he’s Hitler? Just because he has the stache.”

“It’s not the stache, Paul. every other guy we pass has the stache. It’s his eyes.”

“A lot of people have eyes like that,” Paul replied.

“That eye shape…it’s a very unique eye shape, and I know it because I used it in Art School when I was learning to draw eyes. But, it’s more than just the color and the shape. It’s the eyes themselves. When you look into them, didn’t you notice that everything grows cold all of the sudden?” 

“Yeah…” he replied. “Wait, you used Hitler’s eyes to learn how to draw eyes?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” Paul demanded.

“Because, I’m a troll, you know that.” he sighed, and continued, “But, when you look into his eyes you see all this pain and destruction. He killed eleven million people, Paul. you can see that in his eyes. Not guilt. Not regret. Just memories. Memories of all the pain he caused. You can see that evil spirit in him. Didn’t you just get that feeling from him? that feeling like he’ll snap at any second.”

“I…”

“Admit it. you were three inches away from him for fifteen minutes. Tell me that he didn’t make you more afraid than you’d ever been.” Paul thought about it.  
“I’m going to get my teeth drilled by Hitler,” he mused fearfully. He fell to the floor of the lift and put his head in his hands and sobbed. John knelt down next to him.  
“It’s okay. I don’t think he kills anymore, because people would notice if people went in for fillings and never came out.”

“Torture,” Paul whispered. John nodded. He stroked his hair. 

“I’ll protect you.” 

“I have a week…” Paul said, “I made the appointment for a week from today.” John nodded.

“Come on, let’s audition new bass players.” Paul playfully hit him. They laughed. “You don’t deserve this, Macca.”

“No one does.”

“Except him.” They both nodded as the lift descended down to the ground floor.


	4. It Is NOT Winston Churchill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys deduce Hitler's identity.

They sat at their hotel with the other two. John told them all about it. “This can’t be true,” Ringo denied.  
“Sounds true,” George said quietly.   
“It is,” John insisted. Ringo and George looked at Paul.  
“And, how do you feel about it?” Ringo asked.  
“I think I might die,” he answered. “But, I’m not completely sure. I think I’ll just get tortured for a while.”  
“Paul, he’s not Hitler,” Ringo insisted. He shrugged.  
“You didn’t see him. everything John said made sense.”  
“Hitler is dead. We know that.”  
“Do we?” John asked standing up. he started pacing, and eyed his bandmates. “Do we really have all the evidence to prove that he did?” He asked rethorically. No one answered.   
“Maybe John’s right, but how do we know he’s actually Hitler. Just because of his eyes?” George proposed.   
“It’s more than just his eyes!” John debated.  
“Then, what is it?” Ringo demanded. “How tall was he?”  
“Pretty tall, why?” John asked.  
“Hitler’s shorter than you.” John and Paul exchanged a look. A wave of relief washed over him. his dentist was definitely taller than both Paul and John. “I remember reading somewhere that he was 5’’8,” he continued. John wasn’t convinced, but Paul was.  
“You didn’t see his eyes. It had to be him or at least one of his high up Nazis, but it couldn’t have been because they were all executed. There’s proof of their execution. Not his,” John retorted. “Who else has eyes that burn with the death of eleven million people?”  
“Churchill,” George suggested, and they mulled over that for a second.   
“It wasn’t Churchill,” John argued. “Look, I know what I’m talking about, and if you don’t believe me see for yourself.”  
“Fine, I will.”  
“Great!”   
“I’m glad!”   
“Great, tomorrow then?” John asked.  
“Tomorrow what?”  
“You want to see for yourself. How else are you going to?” John asked. Ringo thought about that. “Come on, it’ll be fun.” Ringo looked straight at Paul who was absentmindedly rubbing his jaw. He ever so often flinched for no reason.  
“It’ll be great,” Ringo lied.


	5. Something In The Way He Drills

The next day the four of them gathered on the elevator. Ringo tried not to show his nerves. “He’s not…that bad,” Paul lied, trying to ease his nerves. Ringo didn’t believe him. 

“He won’t torture you. I’m sure he’s not what they say he is,” George reassured. Ringo shrugged. He didn’t really believe that he was Hitler, but he couldn’t stop thinking about what 

John said the day before about his eyes. Is it possible that he still could despite the height thing? 

“I know. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me,” Ringo replied even if he didn’t quite believe it himself.

“We’ll see,” John muttered.

They waited silently for their dentist to come out. The door swung open and what could be Hitler walked out. “Richard Starkley,” he called absently. Ringo’s eyes widened. 

“Go!” His friends pushed him out of his chair and he walked up to Hitler. He looked back and then back to the Furer. He saluted.

“Why are you saluting, boy?”

“Um…” he looked back at his friends. They just waved. He followed Hitler into his office. Just as the door was shutting he heard John say, “Where are we supposed to find a new 

drummer?” he groaned. 

He sat down and Hitler started to dig through drawers like he had done with Paul the day before. “Um…what’s your name?” He asked.

“Um, it’s an old German name, Daflo.”

“Daflo?” Ringo asked. it sounded made up to him, but then again it was German. He decided to let it go. he looked up at the ceiling and tried to ignore everything that John had 

said in the past twenty-four hours. When Daflo (Hitler) turned around he looked straight into his eyes and everything went cold, and he saw true pain. He couldn’t quite place why, 

but he feared that despite all his objections, that he was three inches away from Hitler. 

As he started to work he tried to think of everything he knew about the man in front of him. he could for some reason only remember all the destruction he caused, and not 

anything about him himself. he tried to do the mental math in his head to see how old he’d be. He was an older gentleman. He must have been in his sixties. Despite his age he 

had the furor of a younger man. It was clear to Ringo that this man has a tough past. He gulped.

Then, something happened that to Ringo didn’t seem that significant. His necklace of the Star of David fell out of his shirt and was glistening under the light. Daflo paused in what 

he was doing. He stared at the necklace around his neck, and put down what he was doing. He didn’t back up. he instead gripped the gold star around his neck and his hands 

trembling he studied it, his eyes flashing. He could see such fury and anger boiling in his eyes. Ringo gulped. 

“Why do you wear this?” He asked, his voice was quiet and pained. “Why would you wear such a ghastly thing!” he almost ripped the chain. Ringo flinched. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean 

to snap. It just…took me off guard.” He wasn’t looking at Ringo. 

“It’s my girlfriend’s. She’s Jewish, and she wanted me to wear this while we were away,” he answered quietly. He was scared for his life. 

“Open back up for me. I’m not done.”


	6. Yes He Is--No He's Not--Crash--Maybe So

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More mystery surrounding possible Hitler.

George paced in the waiting room. “What if he’s not okay? I thought I heard yelling before.”

“George, I told you, he probably screamed at his own shadow. I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” Paul reassured. He was sort of torn about this whole Hitler thing. He had 

believed 

it before, but now he wasn’t so sure. He didn’t really look much like him, and anybody could have that mustache, but he couldn’t get passed those eyes. Could anybody else have 

such eyes?

“Yeah, George, don’t worry. The fact that he screamed means we know he’s alive. It’s a good sign,” John added. George’s eyes widened. he really cared about Ringo. In the past few 

months since he joined they had grown to be like brothers. He didn’t want anything to happen to him. 

“John, drop it! Hitler is not Ringo’s dentist!” Paul argued.

“That’s not what you thought yesterday when you were crying in the lift,” John replied. Paul gaped. Then he clenched his jaw in anger.

“You scared me! now I’ve had time to think about it, and there’s no way that’s possible,” he retorted. “Besides, why would he want to be a dentist anyway?”

“Tor…ture…” he emphasized. Paul shook his head and rolled his eyes. 

“It’s just not rational thinking,” Paul answered.

“So, when he drills your teeth next week are you going to be so certain?” He probed. Paul wanted to object, but he knew he was right. He just didn’t know who was right. 

“Guys…does Ringo still wear Maureen’s necklace?” George asked out of nowhere. John and Paul exchanged a wide eyed look. “I think he might actually kill him.” His voice was 

quiet (like it always was), but petrified. 

“It’s okay. he won’t hurt Ringo.”

“You don’t know that!” George snapped at Paul. John’s mouth fell open. 

“George, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so angry,” John said in a low voice. He was amazed. George shrugged in response. 

“I just want him to be okay.”

“He’ll be fine. It’s not like he’d actually kill Ring—“ Paul was cut off by a crash coming from inside the door followed by a scream. George ran towards the door and pried it open 

before Paul nor John could stop him. he found Ringo on the ground unconscious.

“I knocked the tray over and he fainted,” Daflo said innocently holding his hands up. George knelt down next to his best mate. He didn’t appear to have any damage. He was 

breathing just fine and his heart rate was alright. George guessed he was okay. he shook him and Ringo’s eyes fluttered open. 

“George,” he whispered.

“You’re okay,” he whispered back. 

“Um, you’re all done. Your teeth are fine,” Daflo said and handed Ringo a toothbrush. He stared at it in his confused state. 

“Come on, let me help you up.”


	7. Hitler Must Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys make a plan.

On the lift, Ringo told them everything that happened. “So you really fainted?” John asked.

“You don’t understand. ever since he saw that necklace he was different. He was more aggressive and I thought he was going to kill me. and, then he clenched his fists and swung 

back like he was going to punch me, and I closed my eyes and all I heard was the tray fall with all his torture stuff on top hit the floor with a crash, and I thought he was going to 

kill me. so, I fainted,” he explained. The boys stared at him in awe.

“So, he really freaked out at your star of David?” Paul asked toying with the star around his neck. 

“Yeah, I didn’t think so before, but…I really think he’s Hitler.”

“Well…duh! We can’t argue with that logic!” John replied. “Or at least a Nazi. I mean he has to be, right?”

“Of course,” George agreed. They all looked at Paul. 

“Well…what does Macca think?” John asked. 

“I really hope not since he’s drilling my teeth in less than a week, but…you can’t argue with that logic,” Paul replied. he was now more scared than ever. He had no doubt that that 

man was the Furer. 

“Don’t worry about it. maybe you won’t die,” George said trying to be happy about it. Paul just gave him a terrified look. 

“I’m going to be alone with him for a half an hour, at least, and who knows what he’ll do? I doubt he’ll use Novocain,” Paul replied.

“Or he’ll give you the tiniest dose possible so you think you’re getting it, but really you aren’t and he’s just torturing you,” Ringo suggested. It sounded too plausible to Paul and he 

was starting to panic. John put his arm on his shoulder.

“I told you. I’ll protect you,” he looked at his friends and continued, “We’ll protect you.”

“How?” Paul whispered.

“Would you feel better if you went to a normal not Nazi dentist?” Ringo asked. 

“Of course!” Paul exclaimed.

“Then, take him to a different one. Why do we have to go here?”

“Because, NHS only works in the UK and this is the cheapest dentist we could find,” John answered. 

“So, what do I do?” Paul asked worriedly.

“I think…we need to get rid of him. I mean, if he is who he says he is,” John replied.

“Wait…get rid of him?” George asked. 

“What? Are we suddenly sympathetic to Hitler?” John replied sarcastically. “No, we have to get rid of him.”

“You mean…?” George asked.

“We have to kill Hitler.”


	8. Hitler's Not the Most Inconspicuous Guy We Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys investigate Hitler

That night after their four hour set they waited outside of Hitler’s office. “This is never going to work,” George whispered. 

“Jesus, Harrison, why do you have to be so negative? We are trying to save Paul here,” John retorted. Paul blushed. 

“But, we aren’t even sure if he is Hitler,” George replied. 

“Yeah, he’s just some innocent old Nazi?” John muttered. “Trust me, he’s got evil in him.”

“But, what if we kill an innocent man?” George demanded.

“That’s why we are trying to figure out if he is actually Hitler,” John answered. George was still uncertain about the plan. They were supposed to wait for him to come out, and then 

follow him home to see if they can find out any information on him. then, if they can prove that he’s Hitler they’ll sneak into his house, and take him down! That was the plan, at 

least. 

They heard the door to the building slam and watched Hitler walk out toward a red Mazda. He got in and drove away. they got into Paul’s Ford Classic and followed him. they 

drove and drove for miles. Paul almost fell asleep a couple of times. They were going through the whole city, and eventually made it out to the country edge of Hamburg. They 

drove deep into a forest. The road grew narrower and narrower until there wasn’t any road at all, but the red Mazda kept driving through the dirt. They made it through the forest 

and went up a hill to a lonely mansion at the top. It was gold with massive pillars and statues out front. And, to their dismay there was a swasticker painted on the driveway. 

“Hitler isn’t the most inconscpicous guy we know,” John muttered. Paul chuckled. John looked at him in loving way. “You look sort of cute under Hitler’s porch lights.” Paul giggled. 

George and Ringo exchanged a look. They always said that those two should just make out already, but Paul and John claim to be perfectly straight and John be happily married—

which he was, but that didn’t mean that they didn’t care deeply for each other. They giggled together.

“Sh! Hitler’s on the move!” Ringo exclaimed peering through his binoculars. He made his way into the house and they saw a light go on. the watched through the front window as 

he took off his coat and settled into an arm chair. Pretty normal. Then, he tore off his mustache and put it in a velvet case. He set it on his table and leaned back in his chair 

closing his eyes. 

“Great, now we have to watch him take a nap,” George whispered. For a while they watched Hitler sleep and wondered if this was worthwhile. Besides the swasticker in the 

driveway they hadn’t gotten any evidence. The mustache thing was weird to them, but that proved nothing.

“He’s a Nazi either way,” Paul was saying after George was complaining that they had no evidence. “The driveway proves it.”

“It’s not enough,” John replied. “We can’t get rid of him if he’s not Hitler.”

“Do we have to get rid of him?” Ringo asked. John looked deadly serious as he looked Ringo in the eyes. He thought of Paul and how he was going to have to face this Nazi for a 

filling, and was fearful for Paul’s life. He wasn’t going to just let some crazed Nazi do it. 

“You think…” his voice was fiery but low, “That I’m just going to let some…crazy German drill Paul’s teeth than you got a screw loose, Starkley!” His voice rose. Paul was frozen. He 

was glad that John cared so much, but he was also worried about what he was actually saying. He looked worriedly at John, his lip quivering slightly. John ruffled his hair. 

“Sweetie,” he hugged him. “I told you. We’ve got this. we’re going to fix this, I promise.” Paul knew that they couldn’t. what could they do? they couldn’t kill him. not really. what 

options did they have? none. He was dead meat and he knew it. the kings of torture were going to legally torture him in less than a week and he couldn’t stop freaking out about 

it. 

 

“Just don’t let them kill me,” he whispered.

“I wouldn’t,” he swore. He grabbed the binoculars from Ringo and studied the sleeping Hitler. He knew he had to save Paul, but how. “I think we have to break in there.”

“That’s crossing the line! We could get arrested! That’s breaking and entering!” George interjected. 

“That and the fact that we could get killed!” Ringo added. John sneered. 

“What do you want to do instead? We’re never going to prove anything sitting in a bush,” John argued. Ringo and George exchanged a look.

“Do you know what he could do to us if we get caught?” George asked seriously. John rolled his eyes. 

“Of course I know, but that’s not going to happen, because I’ve got this. now let’s go.”


	9. Welcome to Hitler's Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys explore Hitler's house.

he crept up to the window and slipped out his credit card. He stuck it into the side of the window and with a click he had the window open. He gestured for his friends to follow. 

“Get in,” he urged. Paul followed him. he had to do this. if this was his only chance of survival. As for the other two…George was reluctant, but he wanted to help Paul. Ringo stood 

in the grass with his arms folded, stubborn. But, after his friends climbed into what could be Hitler’s house he knew he couldn’t miss it. 

They snuck passed an unconscious snoring Hitler and into his kitchen. It looked like an ordinary kitchen, but they knew there had to be something suspicious. They started 

digging through drawers trying to get answers.

“We should split up. there’s no use the four of us all together,” John suggested.

“Ooh, Sherlock thinks he’s got a plan,” Paul joked. John rolled his eyes. 

“Paul go upstairs, Rings I suggest the basement, George check the garage and then the backyard, and me,” he gulped, “I’ve got the downstairs.”

“But…what if you get caught?” Paul asked. John shook his head.

“I’ll make it through. Don’t worry about me.” He didn’t really believe it himself, but he had to try to reassure Paul. 

“Let me at least stay with you—“ 

“Paul McCartney if you go within fifteen feet of Hitler I will chop your nuts off. got it?” Paul nodded fearfully and ran from the kitchen. George and Ringo split up. John stayed in the 

kitchen and started looking around. He started digging through his pantry, and at first he was seriously looking for evidence, and then he found a bag of crips…

In the basement Ringo shined a flashlight around the dark dusty room. It was covered in cobwebs and if not for his torch he’d see nothing. he didn’t see anything that caught his 

eye until he landed on a painting on the wall. He walked slowly toward it. He shined his flashlight on it. it was the Final Stage. All of it. the whole plan. Ringo gulped, grabbed it, 

and turned around. He looked around, and saw a pile of dolls with broken eyes and limbs. He gasped. He turned around and was faced with a huge spider. He dropped his torch 

which went out. it was completely dark. He started to move towards the stairs, but he didn’t know what direction that was…

Paul found Hitler’s bedroom. It looked normal enough. On the nightstand were old photographs of people. Most of this one woman. he couldn’t quite place who she was. Then, he 

remembered from the papers his dad had shown him as a kid. she was Eva Brun. Hitler’s wife. Hitler’s dead wife. His eyes widened and he covered his mouth. “This is happening. 

This is actually happening!” he whispered to himself. he opened his closet and he expected skeletons to fall out. but it was just clothes. He was disappointed. He expected more 

from Hitler’s closet. He pushed back the clothes and found about three thousand Nazi stickers piled up. on top of them was a picture of the Star of David. It was crossed out or 

anything like Paul expected. It just hung there sitting on top of the stickers. The swastickers…

George didn’t find much in the garage. Just his parked Mazda and some empty pain cans. Nothing really of interest. He went out to the back like John had told him to, and he was 

starting to get creeped out. his backyard was empty and he didn’t know what he was supposed to be looking for. Then he found it. It was everywhere. Stars of David. They littered 

the grass like weeds. Some were blood stained, and other were bent in odd ways. Most of their chains were broken, and if not they were really rusted. It didn’t make much sense 

to George. Why would he litter his yard with what he hates…?

John walked around the first floor of Hitler’s house. He came across a backroom that was very dark and in it he found exactly what he was looking for. There was posters covering 

the walls and if not on the walls in piles on the ground. Each were World War Two propaganda posters. Each had the furer himself on them. he picked one up and smiled. “Paul’s 

saved,” he whispered. he heard someone clear their throat behind him. he turned around to find Hitler standing in the doorway. He was very calm, breathing heavily still in his 

dentist jacket. He had removed his boots and was now at least an inch shorter than John. He gulped. There was no denying that he was standing in front of Hitler anymore.


	10. Building That Criminal Record

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John confronts Hitler

“Did anyone ever tell you that it’s rude to break into people’s houses?” John thought he might faint. The last person he’d ever want to piss off was a dentist, and also Hitler, so he 

was really screwed. “Where are the others? I know they are with you. Where are they?!” He spoke with such a fervor that it struck fear all through John’s body. Shaking, he answered, “I 

came alone.”

“Oh really?” he got inches away from John’s face. “You can’t fool me.” John remained as calm as possible. “Where are they?” he demanded. 

“You can’t touch them,” he hissed. Hitler guffawed. It was a strange thing. Hitler’s laugh. it wasn’t the least bit joyous, but simply manic and a bit terrifying with a twinge of sadness. 

“I already have.” John’s eyes widened and he tried to run out of the room, but Hitler grabbed him and he screamed. He pressed him up against the wall. 

“If you do anything to mess up what I have going Hell only knows the things I’ll do to you,” he threatened. John smiled.

“I call the police.”

“Who do you think they’ll believe? Some ratty twenty-something with a criminal record, or sweet old Dr. Daflo?”

“I don’t have a criminal record,” he retorted. Hitler grabbed a phone and dialed 911 and said some German stuff into it. he hung up and said, “Now you do. if I did hurt you…that 

would only be in self defense for when you try to kill me.” John looked confusedly at him, “Oh, I heard your whole plan. Yeah, you actually thought that I was asleep. How cute? But, 

you don’t know the things I’ve seen. What I’m capable of.”

“ I think I have a good idea, Adolf.”

“Adolf?” The door burst open and Paul, Ringo and George stood there.

“Get the fuck away from him,” Paul ordered in a low voice. Hitler laughed again, and the room went cold. 

“What do you punks think you can do—“ And, he was unconscious. Ringo had hit him over the head with a board, and he laid bleeding on the hardwood floor. John stood up 

straight, having fallen quickly from Hitler letting go, and walked over to his friends. 

“Thank you,” he told them. they nodded. “Let’s get out of here.”


	11. How Can I Understand it if it's All in German?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys concoct a plan

They returned to their hotel and exchanged stories as to what they saw. Paul explained about the stickers in the closet, George about the stars of David, and Ringo the document he found. 

“It’s all in German, but I can see that there are specific dates here. Look, at the top here says something about 1944, and then it skips down to here. To 1962. To November 3rd 1962,” he informed. 

“My filling is on November 3rd,” Paul said quietly. John looked at him anxiously, and then grabbed the paper from Ringo. He ran out of the room, and the boys followed him. he 

reached the front desk and asked the cute receptionist to translate it for him. 

“This is describing Hitler’s suicide plan,” she said with gasp. “But, it doesn’t end there.” She studied it closely. “We should go in private.” She joined the boys in their hotel room 

and continued to study the piece of parchment. “I can’t read this part here. It’s too rubbed off. but, down here, the November 3rd part, well…”

“Well…?” Paul demanded, terrified. 

“He’s planning something. Most of the words are too worn away for me to read it. but, I know that it’s big.”

“We’ll go to the police. We’ll show them this. we’ll prove that he’s still out there!” George suggested. Ringo shook his head. 

“This isn’t enough to convict him. we need harder evidence.”

“Like what?” John demanded. 

“We have to find out more. What he’s planning, but I don’t think we’ll find it at his house,” Ringo answered. “I think we need to check his office.”

“Great, we can sneak there tomorrow night,” John replied. Ringo gave him a knowing look.

“John, we have to go back there…”

“That’s what I just said,” John replied like it was obvious.

“I mean…legally. We have to go when he’s there. I have an idea, and I can’t do it alone.”

“What’s your idea?” Paul asked. He was desperate at this point. He had less than a week to live, and he needed anything that they could offer to save him. 

“I’ll go, tomorrow. George will have to make an appointment, and see what I can find, but we’ll need to also go when it gets closer to the date. We can’t just let Paul go blindly. We 

need someone to go November 2nd to finalize all the details, and if we can figure it out in time put in a plan of our own. Got it?” he suggested. George and Paul nodded. 

“But who’s going on the second?” John asked. everyone looked at him. his eyes widened, “Guys! No way! I am not going anywhere near that crazy Nazi! He already threatened to 

kill me! why should I just walk right in his trap?”

“He wouldn’t kill you at the office,” Paul said. 

“You don’t know that!”

“It’s too suspicious. Especially the day before his big plan,” Ringo added. “Just go. He won’t torture you.” John narrowed his eyes at him.

“I don’t believe you,” John replied.

“It’s the only way we can save Paul,” Ringo replied. John knew he had to do it then. He had no choice, so he closed his eyes and put his hand in the middle of the circle. The others 

did as well.

“Thanks everyone,” Paul whispered.


	12. Chicken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan begins

The following day they went with George to Hitler’s office. He was weary, but they were able to convince him that he would be alright. “Just get all the information that you can,” 

Ringo told him. George nodded, but his breathing was off. the door swung open and Hitler stepped out with his mustache stuck back on and towering over each of them. 

“George, come with me,” he ordered. George quickly stood up and followed him in, but Hitler was eyeing the remaining three as he shut the door behind George. 

“Okay, now what?” John asked excitedly. 

“Wait here. I’m going to go look around.” Ringo got on the floor and started to crawl towards the side room, and disappeared in seconds. John turned to Paul.

“He better fix this,” John said.

“I know. Who knows what he’ll do to me?” Paul replied.

“What about me? he hates me! he’ll torture me for sure!”

“John, I don’t think he’ll be any different with you than he is with anybody else.”

“And, how is that? torturous! That’s how!” Paul shook his head.

“He wasn’t that bad.”

“You…were…in…pain!” John told him.

“That’s only because I have a cavity. If I didn’t he wouldn’t have hurt me at all. He’s not so bad, actually,” Paul replied. John shook his head at him.

“How could you say such a…?”

“John! It’s fine. He’s not how you’d think Hitler being a dentist would be.”

“Do you have any idea what he’ll do to me in there? he’s going to drill holes in my teeth.”

“Actually, it’s my teeth he’s drilling holes into. So, don’t worry. You probably don’t have any problems or anything. so what’s the worry?”

“He’s going to be digging around my mouth. I mean, how is that even legal?” And, finally Paul laughed. “What the Hell are you laughing about, McCartney?”

“Who would’ve ever thought that Johnny Lennon is afraid of a little dentist?” He mused. John’s eyes widened. 

“No, I’m afraid of Hitler! Give me a normal dentist any day and I’ll be alright,” he argued. Paul shook his head. 

“I just don’t believe that. George had to see Hitler and he was fine,” Paul replied.

“Well, George just isn’t verbal about it. I’m sure he was freaking out on the inside,” John replied matter of fact.

“Just admit it. you are afraid of the dentist.”

“I am not!” John argued. Paul gave him a knowing look. “I’m not!” he insisted.

“Come on, it’s written all over your face. You’re scared, you’re scared, just admit it.”

“If I admit it, will you still make me go on the second?” he asked carefully.

“Yes.”

“Then, no.” Paul laughed.

“You are…”

“Shut it, Macca.”

“Okay…chicken.”

“Flower Princess if you don’t keep quiet I’m going to have Hitler drill your face off right now rather than in three days. Got it?” Paul nodded in understanding but mouthed ‘chicken’ 

when John wasn’t looking.


	13. Going Through Hitler's Closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys further explore Hitler's office

Ringo started digging through files in the storage room. It was full of folders but they appeared to just be dental records. He was going to give up when he saw one that caught his 

eye. Relhit Faldo. Rearranging the letters in his head he realized it was an anagram for Adolf Hitler. His eyes widened and he grabbed the file. In it were black and white 

photographs of the furer, and underneath them was a typed paper that had dates on it just like the other document did. he couldn’t read what it said, so he just stuffed it in his 

pocket. He started looking around the room some more. He found all kinds of anagrams. FDR had an anagram, so did Churchill and even Mussolini. The top tear Nazis all had 

them, and each of their files was more papers like that one. All in German, but the same dates. Though, the German words varied. Then, he saw one sitting on a little desk on top 

of a very large pile that said Paul McCartney. No anagram. Just the name. he tore it open and found a piece of paper with one date on it. November 3rd. there was a few sentences 

of German after it. he put it in his pocket with the others. He left the room and returned to his friends as if nothing happened.

Inside Hitler’s office George laid while Hitler pulled things together. “Do you happen to know when Paul has to come back? I’ve forgotten already,” George asked. Hitler answered 

so quickly it was like it was already on the tip of his tongue, “November 3rd. he should be here promptly. It’s the wrong day to be late.”

“What…” George decided to let it go.

“Interesting day…November 3rd.”

“What’s so interesting about it?” Hitler demanded. 

“Well…3 and then 11…that makes 14 and it is divisible by 2 to make 7, and it is a lucky number.”

“Trust me, there’s nothing lucky about November 3rd,” he muttered. 

“It’s supposed to be nice weather, and it’s a Friday. Do you have any plans?” Hitler shot him an annoyed look. 

“Not really,” he muttered. “You know, you asked a lot of questions but you haven’t asked the obvious,” he continued.

“And, what’s that?” George asked nervously.

“You know what it is, but it’s useless to say, because I won’t answer it. you and your nosy friends don’t need to know the answer,” he stuck a hook in George’s mouth. “And, that’s 

that.”

George quickly left his office and joined his friends. Hitler came out and told George that he had left so fast that he had forgotten his jacket. He handed it to him, and then asked 

to see Ringo in his office. Ringo was petrified, but followed him anyway. “Sit, I want to check something I saw the other day.” he started digging around Ringo’s open mouth. “Oh 

my, it seems your wisdom teeth need to go.”

“What? No, I thought they were fine—“

“They’re not. give me a moment and I’ll be ready.” He put a mask over Ringo’s face and he feared it was the end. He started to feel dizzy. 

When he woke up there was gauze in his mouth and he was tired. There were spaces where his wisdom teeth should be. “Sorry I didn’t catch that earlier,” Hitler said. “But, that was 

easier than you thought, right?” Ringo nodded.

“What…what did you give me?” Ringo asked.

“Nitrous Oxide, it’s not dangerous. Just a strong sedative, you see.” Ringo nodded in understanding. “Now you may go.” Ringo stood up and dizzily made his way out the door and 

back to his friends. He pulled them into the lift and they reviewed what they found. Ringo started digging through his pockets but he couldn’t find any of the folded up sheets of 

paper that he had put in there earlier. “They were here, I swear!”

“Rings, did he pull your teeth out when you were awake?” Paul asked suddenly, scared. 

“No, he knocked me out. why?” Ringo answered. then he got it. “How did he even know they were in there!” He exclaimed. He started digging through his pockets, and found 

nothing. nothing…but a swasticker. He pulled it out and looked at it. 

“Check if there’s poison!” John called.

“How can he…?” Paul grabbed it out of Ringo’s hands and dropped it on the floor and stepped on it. 

“Why would he put that…?” Ringo asked. suddenly, George unbuttoned Ringo’s top shirt button. 

“Maureen’s Star of David. It’s gone…” George stated.

“He’s not touching you,” John whispered to Paul. “We have to show this to the police.”

“Show them what? His dentist put a swasticker in his pocket!” Paul demanded. “We have nothing! there is nothing we can do! even if I don’t go on the third that doesn’t mean what 

he’s planning isn’t going to happen to someone else! But, what can we do to stop him? really, I ask, because I have no clue. I just feel so screwed, and…” he paused, “We have to 

find a way. John, on the 2nd it is up to you to figure out how to get rid of him by the 3rd because I can’t do this.” he looked like he might start crying. “Help me.”


	14. John and Hitler (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John faces Hitler (part 1 of this)

Two days later they stood on the same lift with a plan. They were going to get hardcore evidence that he was Hitler to give to the police. They knew that that would get them 

thrown in jail, but it would be worth it as long as Hitler wasn’t around anymore.

The doors opened and three of the four stepped out, John remained frozen on the elevator. They had to pull him out before the doors shut. “John, we talked about this. you’re 

going to be fine,” Paul told him.

“You are just trying to calm me down so I won’t try to run away,” John replied matter of fact.

“Again,” Ringo muttered. They had had a tough time getting John there. They had to drag him from the hotel the whole way trying to convince him that he wouldn’t die. He wasn’t 

so convinced getting pushed into the building.

“Look, you know the plan. All you have to do is lie there and we’ll do the dirty work,” Paul reminded him. John rolled his eyes. 

“I really wish it was someone else,” John told him. “I’d gladly do the dirty work.”

“There’s no one else. We’ve all already gone,” Ringo said. John frowned. 

“Fine, I’ll go. just try not to get yourselves killed,” he said sitting down. They were quiet for a few minutes. “Guys, say something. I don’t want you to be mad at me before I die.” 

Paul half smiled at him.

“We’re not. relax.” They smiled at each other. 

“I’m going to miss you,” John said. 

“You’d have to go somewhere for me to miss you,” Paul replied. 

“If I do die at least I have the comfort of knowing you’ll be with me tomorrow,” John said grinning. Paul shook his head at him.

“Oh my God, you are right.”

“We’re going to be the only Beatles left,” George whispered.

“Yes!” Ringo and George exclaimed high fiving. 

“If you replace us with some drab dufus from Dresden you’ve got another thing coming,” John told them. They shrugged.

“Oh, have fun in Hell,” Ringo replied. John pretended to laugh. 

“Guys, seriously, this mission is important,” Paul said. They each nodded.

“I’m aware,” Ringo replied.

“If you die, John, can I have your guitar?” George asked.

“No!” he retorted, “It’s going in a museum. Everyone will worship me after I’m dead. All those that never appreciated me when I was alive. Just like Van Goph,” he mused. Then, 

they all laughed. They were still laughing when the door burst open, they suddenly stopped. 

“John, come,” he ordered. John was frozen where he was. His friends all looked at him expectantly. 

“Go on, Johnny,” Paul told him. he stood up and faced his friends. 

“I love you guys,” and his eyes were filled with tears as he walked towards Hitler’s office the door shutting behind him. as soon as it did George and Ringo were already moving 

about his office trying to find substantial evidence. The receptionist had gone to lunch, so they started rummaging through her desk to see if they could find anything. Paul stayed 

frozen in his seat.


	15. John and Hitler (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hitler and John finally face off (sort of).

John stepped into Hitler's office, his eyes wide and he was sweating. 

"Come in," Hitler ordered, standing next to the chair, his eyes dark. John slowly started walking backwards. "If you don't come in here in the next forty seconds i'll--" John was in the 

chair before he finished his sentence. Hitler sighed and muttered, "shame." he continued, picking up a sharp tool, "Alright, let's see what's going on here." John timidly opened his 

mouth and Hitler peered inside. John started sweating.

Hitler started poking around John's open mouth. John stared at him with wide eyes, his hands balled into fists. Hitler had this satisfied smile on his face. 

"You know, it's times like these that i really enjoy this job." John's eyes went wider and his breathing sped. Hitler laughed maniacally as he picked up another tool. John flinched. 

Hitler stopped suddenly. "What's the matter with you, anyway? why're so skittish?"

"Why?" John croaked his mouth dry. He cleared his throat and continued, "Isn't it obvious? This whole thing is...intense." Hitler looked skeptically at him. 

"Intense?" he laughed. "This is nowhere near intense." Hitler put his tools down and stood over John so he was looking directly over him. "This isn't intense. What your friend is going 

to go through is intense." John gulped. "This," he continued, picking up one of the tools, "Is nothing." he poked John's tooth in a particularly sensitive spot, and John tried so hard not 

to wince, but the pain was apparent in his eyes. A scary smile crept across Hitler's face. "What do we have here?" He asked in a sing-song voice. John slid away from him shaking 

his head. Hitler leaned in closer poking at that tooth again. his smile grew wider. he put the tools down and stood straight up. "John Lennon, you have a cavity." 

"So, this is how it ends. Not with a bang but with a drill," he murmured. 

"Now, I can take you now, as this is a minutia cavity." John stared at him in fear, his hands shaking and his heart pounding. Hitler picked up what John assumed was the drill and he screamed bloody murder. 

"Someone help me! Paul! George! Ringo! Save me!" He tried to scream but his voice died out quickly. Hitler stuck a tube his mouth. 

"Now close." John shut his mouth. "Now, listen to me, if you scream for your little friends again i will end this whole thing right now. Do you hear me?" John nodded, keeping his 

mouth shut. "Alright, open again." John opened his mouth and Hitler removed the tube. He started fiddling around with some of the other tools. John peaked at them, noting that 

each one was worse than the next. he started hyperventilating. "What's the matter with you?" Hitler asked him. "You'd think I was about to torture you." He laughed darkly. 

"Novocain," John whispered, "You have to...use Novocain."

"Not in your case," he replied flatly. "Now, open," he commanded, picking up the drill and pointing at him. John sealed his lips together. John looked at him in disbelief. "Are you 

disobeying me?" John closed his eyes, his lip quivering, he took a deep breath, and then opened his mouth. 

"If you torture me, will you please take it easy on Paul."

"You and Paul are two separate individuals. What I do to you does not relate to what I do to Paul, and like I mentioned, your cases are very different." 

"Just promise me you won't hurt him."

"In my profession, I can never promise that," he replied, turning the drill on. "Now, let's go, I don't have all day." John closed his eyes, balled his hands into fists, and with a small whine, let Hitler begin his torture.

............

For a while, John just sat there in shock. He felt almost no pain, only twinge of it here and there. The thing he experienced most profoundly, was the sounds--and extreme fear. 

The sharp, high-pitched sound of the drill buzzed in his ears for what felt like an eternity. He tried focusing on something else, but it was impossible to tune out. John looked into 

Hitler's eyes and found pure joy. It shook John to his core, and this gave John all the conformation that he needed that the man standing over him was Hitler.


	16. Proof Enough for You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys try to find evidence to condemn Hitler.

Meanwhile, back in the waiting room.

Paul was still glued to his seat while the others rummaged through Hitler's desk. 

“He didn’t have to do this, you know,” Paul said out of nowhere. “He could’ve let me just go tomorrow with no chance, but…he gave me that chance.”

“Paul, if you want to make out with your boyfriend it’ll have to wait. We are on a mission,” Ringo called from under the desk. 

“He’s too good to me,” Paul mused. “Too…too good.” He sulked.

“You know you are supposed to help,” Ringo said from under the desk. 

“I should…shouldn’t I? for him. that’s the least I could do.”

“Yeah, no get out here,” Ringo said pulling him out of his seat. “Go back to his little room in the back and see if you can find anything good again,” Ringo ordered. Paul went back 

to the little room and he found the folder with his name on it right away. he started going through it. it was all in German, and he couldn’t read any German. But, it didn’t look 

good. They were loud angry words, and he dropped his folder on the floor. All the papers fell on the floor, and he was about to go when something else caught his eye. It was 

hidden under the pile of papers from his folder. It was a photograph. He picked it up and studied it. there was a long line of people pressed up against the fence, but he barely got 

a look at it when he heard Ringo scream from the waiting room. He dropped the picture and ran out of the room. He found Ringo lying on the floor with George kneeling over him.

“What happened?” Paul demanded. 

“Ringo was digging through these drawers, and then he just screamed and fainted,” George explained panicking. Paul knelt down next to him and tried to wake him up. 

“Ringo! Ringo!” He wouldn’t budge. “He’s breathing just fine…” in his hand something glowed gold. Paul peeled back his fingers to reveal a Star of David necklace with “Maureen 

Cox” engraved on the back. but, it was snapped in half and Maureen’s name was crossed out. Paul looked where Ringo had once been kneeling and there was a pile of papers on 

the floor and on the very top was a list of names. Almost all had been crossed out, and one was added in girly handwriting, the ink barely dry, was Maureen Cox. Paul looked at 

the other names. “Ted Hanks the Second, I went to school with the third. But, he never knew his father because he…” Paul trailed off. 

“Is this proof enough for you?” George asked, his voice hard. Paul gripped the necklace, both halves still hanging on the chain, and stuffed it carefully into his pocket. 

“What if it isn’t enough for the police?” Paul demanded. 

“There isn’t any more proof that we can get!” George argued. 

“I’m…I’m…” he glanced at that list again. Under Maureen Cox was… “Next.” He suddenly remembered that all of his best mates weren’t there. he ran towards Hitler’s door and 

tried to get it open to no avail. It wouldn’t budge! 

“We left him alone in there!” Paul shouted. George grabbed him and dragged him back to Ringo.

“Do you want to be bait?” George demanded. 

“John was on that list,” he sobbed, “And, his name was crossed off.” He fell to his knees and cried. George hugged him, and held back tears. it’s something he knew John would’ve 

done. He would’ve never let Paul be alone at this time.

Ringo’s eyes eventually fluttered open. “Paul, you’re here,” he said, “Why are you…?” He didn’t even have to ask he just knew. He hugged him.

They sat together on the floor hugging and crying. They sort of lost track of time in their own little world. “I would’ve done it without him going first. without all this planning. I 

would’ve just gone if I had known…” Paul said.

“He’s going to kill you too,” George said. 

“I know,” he gulped.

“Why didn’t he kill us?” Ringo asked.

“I…” he couldn’t answer that question. Their names weren’t on the list, so maybe he didn’t want to kill them. maybe this was all having to do with his November 3rd plan. That 

they still didn’t know what it was. 

“Why are you all sitting on the floor?” John’s voice scared the crap out of them. they screamed and jumped up. 

“We thought you were dead,” Paul whispered hugging him.

“Actually, I survived,” he said with a smile. “It wasn’t that bad. you were right, Macca. My worst fears weren’t exactly realized.” Paul thought he might cry again. 

“I’m so…so…”

“Confused,” George finished for him. 

“What the Hell happened out here?” He asked regarding the mess of papers around the desk. They quickly shoved them back into drawers and dashed into the lift.


	17. The Best Laid Plans...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys try to enact their plan.

“What the Hell happened out here?” He asked regarding the mess of papers around the desk. They quickly shoved them back into drawers and dashed into the lift. There they told 

him all about the list and the necklace. Which Paul handed back to Ringo.

“By the way, if he ever gets near Maureen I’ll murder him myself,” Ringo said. 

“But, I don’t understand. your name was crossed off of the list, and he didn’t kill you,” Paul said to John. He shrugged in response.

“I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t mean to put me on there and he crossed me off,” John suggested.

“Either way I’m dead,” Paul said. John’s eyes got sad.

“Look, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I don’t think he’s going to kill you, Macca. I pissed him off the most, and he didn’t do anything to me i mean, he only caused me mild 

pain. Not the kind of stuff that Dr. Crazy-Nazi-Guy would be proud of. Plus, Ringo hit him over the head with a 

board, and he had the perfect opportunity to torture him and he didn’t take it. I’m not saying he’s not dangerous, but 

he might not be dangerous to you,” John suggested. Paul was shocked. John was the one that was the most persistent 

the whole time that he was destined for torture or death. no other options. 

“He didn’t have to use Novocain with you.”

“Well, he could've, but I had a minutia cavity, so it didn't require any." John explained.

"And it wasn't torture?” Paul asked carefully. John shook his head. 

"Like i said, it didn't hurt that much, and he really had every opportunity to hurt me." 

"So, you think that he might not even be Hitler?"

"No, I know now that he's Hitler. I just think that he might have bigger plans than your mouth."

"Does that mean we're done snooping after Hitler?"

"No, we're definitely doing that. We can't exactly just let a rogue Hitler wander around while he has some convoluted plan planned," John replied. 

"But, do you really think that he does?"

“He did knock Ringo out to get that Star of David.”

“And, the lists,” Ringo added.

"He definitely has something," George continued.

“So, maybe there isn’t hope for me. maybe he really does want to hurt me, and maybe even…” Paul’s eyes widened.

“Well, Paul, we’re going to the police tonight with our evidence, and hopefully they at least take him in for questioning,” George suggested.

“Yeah, I mean, what sane individual has a swasticker painted on their driveway?” Ringo added. 

“Not to mention the fact that he did threaten me,” John added.

“And, we’d gladly go to prison for you,” Ringo said rubbing his arm. Paul looked hopeful. 

That night they went to the police station and presented their evidence, but the police station didn’t know who they were talking about. “Daflo, his name is Dr. Daflo, and he works 

on 1900 Mifflyn Street,” John told the cops. 

“There is no Dr. Daflo in the system.”

“Obviously, because he has a fake name!” Paul exclaimed. 

“But, you just have to go to 1900 Mifflyn Street to find him. he’ll be there, and then you can investigate him.” The cops agreed, and they all crammed into a cop car. They got to 

his office and his red Mazda was gone. 

“Oh, God,” John said. Paul was about to start crying, but John grabbed him by the shoulders looked him in the eyes and said, “I’ve got an idea.” He turned to the cops. “Tomorrow. 

Come with us, and you’ll find him.”

“Look, some guy that stuffed a swasticker in your jacket pocket is not worthy of our time,” one of the cops said.

“You don’t understand what we found in this guys house!” George retorted.

“Oh, shit.” They had left the whole part about them breaking into his house. 

“You’re the call that we got a few nights ago,” the other cop said. And, with that they were in handcuffs going down to the police station. 

They sat in jail for hours before Brian broke them out. “Look, I only was able to get you out, because I promised them free drinks from the Top Ten club—which is coming out of 

your salary,” he said. They each nodded in understanding. They all knew that Paul had no chance. He would be dead in hours.


	18. John and Hitler part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John sneaks into Hitler's house once more.

Lying in his bed that night he couldn’t sleep. “Can you sleep?” Paul asked.  
“Not really,” John answered. “Look…I was thinking…since this is the last night of your life. Why don’t you come sleep down here with me? like we did before we got bunk beds.” Paul climbed down to John’s bunk.   
“Don’t pee on me this time,” Paul said. John hit him with a pillow. “I don’t know if I like the idea…of getting tortured to death.”  
“It’s just a drilling,” he whispered.  
“For the first time in my life I wish it was just that, but…you know…November 3rd.” He tried to laugh, but was unsuccessful.   
“But, listen…know that you aren’t doing this alone. We’re going to be with you the whole time…just not in the same room,” John said. Paul nodded.   
“You guys are too good to me,” he said sleepily.  
“Now my sweet Flower Princess get all the rest you need. you have a big day tomorrow,” and Paul drifted off to sleep. John watched him sadly. He just didn’t want him to go. he’d do anything, but he was completely out of options.   
After Paul had fallen asleep, John snuck out of the hotel, got into a taxi, and had him drive out to the edge of the city. He found a secluded neighborhood that looked familiar, and it wasn't long until he found a swasticker in the driveway. He hopped out of the taxi and crept up the lawn to the front window. He saw Hitler sleeping alone in his den. He broke in through the window, as he had done before. He heard Hitler stir, but this time he didn't care. He wanted him to wake up.   
Hitler woke up, startled.   
"Lennon, what are you doing here?" He exclaimed. John glowered at him, full of adrenaline. He breathed heavily, his nostrils flared, his eyes on fire. "Calm down, whatever you're intentions are, just please, calm down."   
"My friend, my best friend, is coming into your office tomorrow."  
"I am aware of that very important appointment."   
"I am not here to hurt you, or even threaten you. I am hear to beg you." He bent down on his knees and looked up at Hitler pleadingly. "Whatever you are planning for tomorrow. I am begging, please leave him be."  
"You don't know anything about November 3rd."   
"I don't, and I don't want to know. I just want you to let him go, please. He is innocent, and I know that you don't care about the innocent, but please, just this once, show me that you are human and that you will let him live."  
"I will not kill your friend, if that is what you are thinking?" Hitler looked at him in bewilderment. "But exactly do you think I'm going to do to your little friend, huh?" He replied, patronizing. John looked down and refused to answer him. "Look at me, Lennon," he commanded. John looked up at him, afraid. "Who do you think that I am?"  
"I know who you are--"  
"Don't dance around it, just say it. Tell me what you think of me." Hitler stared into his eyes pleadingly, desperately. John hyperventilated and tried to answer. "You think I'm him, don't you?" Hitler continued, melancholy, bitterness dripping from his voice, and fear set deep in his eyes. John opened his mouth to reply, tears streaming down his face, and breathing heavily, he could not answer. "I can assure you, John Lennon, that whatever you are thinking about me in that little head of yours, isn't even close to the one I'm thinking of." The man that John believed to be Hitler took a step back, and watched John tremble in fear and confusion.  
"You're not Hitler?"  
"Don't say his name," he hissed.   
"You're not him? You're not...all this time..."  
"I didn't say I wasn't," he replied darkly, "And I won't say I am."  
"Then, who are you?" John demanded. "Are you a former Nazi--current Nazi?"  
"If I tell you, you'll go to the police. I don't want you to go to the police."  
"Tell me one thing--no a few things, but tell me this first. Why are you a dentist?"   
"I wanted the chance to prove that you could hurt people in order to help them." It was a statement that he feared a dentist would say all his life, and actually hearing it shook him to his core.  
"Why didn't you hurt me? Today, when you were working on my filling."  
"I am not a monster, John." John looked away, unable to meet his eyes when he heard him say that. It seemed such an outrageous statement.   
"Coming from the monster of my youth," John spat. "And why didn't you hurt me? You hate me, you clearly want me to suffer. You had the chance, why didn't you take it?"  
"I didn't spare you. Your tooth spared you, in a sense. Your cavity is small, that is why I didn't numb you. There wasn't anything I could do."  
"So you would've?"  
"I'm not saying that."  
"Then what? You want to hurt people, but you're not a monster, and you wouldn't have hurt me, even if you had the chance? Will you hurt Paul?"  
"You will never understand me, and I am grateful for that." He sighed, "But no, I don't want to hurt people. Not truly. I don't want anyone else to suffer at my hand."  
"But what about Paul? What will you do to him?"  
"November 3rd...the day everything changed."  
"Will you spare him? You have to tell me. I can't let him go tomorrow if you don't reassure me that he'll be alright." The dentist looked John square in the eyes and with no emotions he said, "I don't know what will happen when the sunrises, but your friend will make it to midnight."   
"Will you hurt him?" He didn't answer him. "Can you just tell me, what happened on November 3rd. What is going to happen--"  
"Stop asking questions and get out."  
"Hitler please--"  
"Don't call me that. Don't you ever call me that!" He hissed, grabbing a hot poker and chasing John out of the house with it. John ran across the lawn and back into the taxi, driving far away from the man that John will never understand.


	19. We're Not the Fucking Rolling Stones!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul gets ready to face de furher himself, and he gets a little help from his friends.

The next morning, Paul woke up with a load groan. John lied next to him, stroking his hair. 

"I know, I know, but I can assure you, you will live through this day."

"But he's--"  
"He's not," John answered with a sigh, "Or maybe he is. The truth is, I had a talk with him last night--and before you say anything, just listen. He is a scary man, a very, very scary man, but I don't think he wants to murder you in his chair while drilling out your molars. I think he just wants to drill your teeth until you cry and then let you go. I could be wrong though. You never know with a former Nazi--or not a Nazi?"

"John, what are you talking about?"

"I left, last night, I snuck out and had a long talk with Hit--Dr. Daflo. He was very vague, but he assured me that you wouldn't die."

"You trust Hitler?" Paul exclaimed. 

"He was being surprisingly honest." 

"John, did you ever think that maybe he just told you that, so you'd feel safe enough to send me into his trap." John considered that. Then his eyes widened. 

"That ass hole!"

"Well he is de fuhrer so..." 

"What are we supposed to do?" John asked falling back on the bed in despair. 

"Maybe we can just stay home. I mean, we can wait until November 4th to fill my cavity, or we can try going to a different dentist?" John contemplated that for a moment, then he finally sat up and sighed. 

"Paul, honey, I don't think you want to find out what Hitler/Former Nazi/psychotic dentist would do if you missed his very special appointment. I mean, what if he sent one of his goons after you and murdered you the spot?" John started hyperventilating, but Paul was skeptical. 

"His goons? What goons?"

"What did you think happened to the former Nazis? They all just vanished?" 

"I hoped that they all emigrated to East Germany."

"Well, they didn't. They are here, and they are ready to do whatever their great furor says." Paul shrieked. Then tears filled his eyes. 

"We have to do this--I have to do this." John nodded mournfully. 

"I don't want you to, but I can't take the risk of you not going." Paul nodded tearfully. John pulled him into his arms and stroked his back. "I love you, Paulie."

"I love you too, Johnny." He kissed John's cheek. "Thank you for all the risks you've taken for me. I know this has been hard." John nodded. 

"It wasn't so bad," John tried. "Didn't hurt much, really." Paul squeaked. Then his chest started convulsing with sobs, and John pulled him into his arms and cried softly. "Johnny's   
not going to let anything happen to you. Anything." 

............

Paul, John, George, and Ringo arrived at Dr. Daflo's/Hitler's/Former Nazi's office an hour later. It was empty except for the receptionist at the desk. Paul stood frozen in the elevator and George and Ringo carefully dragged him out. Paul's expression was frozen in a permanent state of fear. John could barely look at him, but he couldn't stop looking at him either. Every time he looked at his best mate's terrified face, a sob would escape his lips.   
John bravely walked up to the receptionist and signed him in, noting that Paul's name was crossed off the list. John gulped and walked back to the others, squeezing Paul's hand. Paul's hand was stiff in John's. No one said anything for a while. 

George finally broke the silence. 

"Has anyone seen the new trailer for the Bridgette Bardot movie?" Everyone stared at him like he was crazy. "What? I thought it'd make him feel better if he thought about her gorgeousness." John rolled his eyes and Ringo sighed heavily. Paul was still motionless. 

A moment later Ringo said suddenly, "I do like her face." 

"That's not all I like," John said coyly. Then he paused and looked at Paul. He shut up. 

"No, go ahead," Paul said suddenly, "You guys discuss the hotness of Bridgette Bardot while I'm on my death bed. I don't care." 

"Are you being passive aggressive right now?" George demanded. 

"Hey! Leave him alone!" John shouted. 

"He's the one being a jerk! I was just trying to lighten the mood--"

"Well don't!"

"Boys! Boys! Stop!" Everyone looked at Ringo in shock. "I know I've only been a part of this band for a couple of months, but I've seen the way you are with each other. You guys   
love each other in a way that I've never seen before. You guys fight sometimes, yeah, but you don't get hung up over little shit. You stand up for each other; you're there for one another. Right now, you're acting like a bunch of dicks--no, worse, you're acting like the Stones." The other three looked like Ringo had just punched them in their faces. John gritted his teeth. 

"Fuck the Stones. We're the fucking Beatles, and we don't let anyone--not even fucking Hitler--get in between us." They all agreed with a big cheer. They wrapped their arms around each other, pulling each other in close. For a very quick moment, they were all at peace. 

Then the door to the inner office opened.


	20. Die Füllung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the penultimate chapter, Paul finally faces his foe to end this mess once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys that this chapter is so belated. I just had a hard time getting inspired to write the last two chapters, but I promise the final chapter will come out very soon.

From the inner office door, Hitler (or who they believed is Hitler) stepped out. He looked directly at Paul, who looked at him in horror, hyperventilating. Hitler stuck one finger out and waved it towards him. Paul gulped, shakily standing up, his hands still gripping the arms of the chair. They others all stared at him in shock and horror. John reached a hand out and gripped Paul's wrist. George let out a little whine, while Ringo just gaped at the scene in front of him.   
"Come," Hitler called out with such command that it made Paul immediately let go of the chair and rush over to him, John being forced to let go, falling forward, crestfallen. George fell to his knees, his lip quivering, his eyes wide. Ringo stood up, a hand resting protectively on George's shoulder, his eyes mournful. "Paul McCartney, it's time," he said darkly. He turned back to the others, looking petrified. They waved to him. John blew a kiss, tears streaming down his face. George swallowed back tears, mouthing 'goodbye.' Ringo gave him a reassuring nod.   
"Say your goodbyes," Hitler told him. Paul faced them, trying so hard not to cry. He was shaking like a leaf, his heart pounding, his breathing sped up.   
"I love you guys," he paused, taking a deep breath shaky breath, "Please don't forget me."  
"Never," John whispered. Paul waved to them one more time before turning around following Hitler into the unknown.   
....................  
Hitler walked him down a long hallway, taking him much farther than he ever took him before. The hallway was not very well lit, half the lights were turned off and the rest were very dull. The paint on the walls was chipping off, and on one wall, there was a large L shaped crack the width of one's pinkie. He passed a room marked   
Röntgenstrahl with a scary looking machine inside. He passed many closed doors, most of them marked  
Prüfung. He didn't know what that meant, but he was glad he wasn't entering any of those.   
When they finally reached the end of the hallway they stopped. The doctor spun on is heels and faced the door on their left. This one was labeled Verfahren.   
Paul stepped inside the little room, which was pitch black. The doctor quickly flicked on the switch, turning on a very dim light. He gestured for him to get in the black dentist chair in the center of the room. He moved slowly, carefully, his arms and legs still shaking. He managed to make his way to the chair, settling into it. Hitler came over to him, wearing a surgical mask, black latex gloves, and a silver headlight. Paul recoiled. The doctor held his chin still, tilting it upwards. "Stay. Still," he commanded, letting him go. He flicked on the overhead lamp, blinding him. "Now open," he ordered. Paul looked at the man standing over him, and he wondered if everything the others said was true, if all it was all this time was an overreaction created by prejudice. Yet it all seemed so likely, the way he treated them, the things he stole from them, the fear he could create with just one look. He recalled what John had said the day they met Him, 'his eyes, there's something about his eyes...' he looked into this man's eyes, and saw something dark, something that made him severely uncomfortable. He knew that this man, whoever he was, could kill him if he wanted to, but did he want to? He swallowed hard, blinking rapidly. His heart was pounding in his chest and he felt like he couldn't breathe. He had this pain in his chest he couldn't ignore. "I said open," he commanded, getting angrier. Paul was petrified, but he wasn't ready to go. He wasn't ready to find out what would happen on November 3rd and what Verfahren meant and why him? He wasn't Jewish, he was British but he was very young when the war was going on. How was it his fault? He wanted to ask, he wanted to scream at him that he was innocent and all of this was unfair. But he didn't. He thought of the others, how they each had to suffer, all for him. He especially thought of John, the pain he endured, or imagine he endured, and he felt great sympathy for them. And so he knew that this had to happen and it had to happen then, if it was ever going to happen at all.   
"I'm ready," he whispered, though he wasn't certain.   
"Alright, I'll just give you some Novocain. It...dulls the senses." The way he said that gave Paul a chill up his spine.   
The crazed doctor picked up a huge syringe, the needle very long and thick. He aimed it towards Paul, who was sweating bullets at this point.   
"Open wide," he said melodically. Paul just barely parted his lips. He pried his mouth open with his spare hand and with the other he aimed the needle right at his gums, just hovering over the injection site. Paul's eyes kept flitting back and forth between the needle and the lamp over his head, shining in his eyes. He could feel the needle inching closer and closer to his gums, his mouth getting drier by the minute. He was breathing short, shallow breaths, his hands were gripping the sides of the chair. And suddenly, without warning, Hitler plunged the needle into his gums causing a sharp pain to radiate through the area. It lasted about thirty seconds and then it started to subside, until suddenly Hitler moved the needle and the pain came back only slightly worse. After about two minutes of holding the needle in there, he pulled it out, leaving Paul numb and scared. He tossed the needle aside and started to arrange the tools on his tray. Paul tried not to peek over at them. After several long minutes of sitting in silence, the only sound coming from the clinking of the tools being arranged, he peeked over, revealing a long line of sharp instruments, each unique, each absolutely terrifying.   
After a few more minutes, Hitler stopped what he was doing and turned to him.   
"I'm ready to begin."  
Paul felt his stomach drop. Tears were brimming in his eyes and his whole body started to tremble.   
"Unless you want to get Mr. Lennon in here and I can promptly remove his wisdom teeth."  
"Do it," he whispered.  
"What did you say?"  
"I said do it. Get it over it over with all ready."  
A smile spread across Hitler's face, it was a dark smile, an eager smile. He almost looked like the Joker about to kill Batman. He flinched, closing his eyes and turning his head away.   
"You don't seem ready," he taunted. Paul looked at him, terrified but trying to be strong.   
"I can do this," he said more to himself than his foe. "If John did it..."  
"Did what?" And Hitler let out a maniacal laugh.   
"Do what you have to do," Paul whispered, "Because I don't want to know what'll happen if you don't." Hitler gave him a knowing look, and as he picked up a dental drill, he said, "Your tooth'll rot out." This was followed by another maniacal laugh as he stuck the electric drill into his mouth, a high pitched sound filling the room along with a shriek from Paul.


	21. Naught the Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys finally find out the truth about their dentist. Or do they?

Out in the waiting room, John was pacing back and forth. George and Ringo sat side by side, staring at the ground. John was sweating profusely. His heart was racing like he just ran a marathon. He kept looking back at the door to the surgery, a look of desperation on his face. He wanted so desperately for his mate to come back. 

"He's not coming back," George said darkly. 

"Don't do that." Ringo pleaded. 

"What? It's true. It's been almost an hour and he's still not done. It doesn't take that long to get your teeth drilled."

"It's Hitler, he's probably dragging it out!" John exclaimed. 

"Do you think he's going to be okay?" Ringo asked him carefully. 

"I don't know. I mean, he had every opportunity to torture us and he didn't. He didn't even use Novocain on mine and it barely hurt." he paused, "Guys, what if we were wrong?  
What if he's just a crazed, wacked out, ex-Nazi with a hatred towards Brits?"

"So, you're saying that after all of this, you don't think he's Hitler?"

"Then what about November 3rd? You know, today?"

"I don't know, but maybe it's higher than this. Who would really plan their whole attack around a dentist visit? I mean, what's the worst he can do?"

"But after all you said?"

"I know, but I'm just confused. He could've killed us at his house. He could've tortured us on multiple occasions. If he is Hitler, then he's sending out mixed signals."

"Does that mean you think Paul's alright?" George asked tentatively. 

"I don't know. Paul's tooth already hurts. It wouldn't take much to torture him." He sighed and put his head in is hands. "I just want him to be okay."

Just then, the door to the inner office opened and Paul stepped out. His lip was puffy and he looked a little dazed, but other than that, he looked okay. The others rushed over to him. 

"Paul, Paul, are you okay?" They asked anxiously. 

"I'm fine," his voice was a little muffled from the anesthetic. 

"Well?"

"Did he torture you?" George asked softly. 

"No, it didn't hurt at all," he answered nonchalantly. They looked at him in concern. He was acting a bit too casual.

"Paul, do you remember what happened? All of it?" Ringo probed. 

"Yes, very clearly. It was scary, really scary, but it didn't hurt. I swear. He used a lot of Novocain. He gave me like three shots. I couldn't feel a thing, honest." 

They were sill in shock.

"But he's Hitler. Didn't he want to torture you?" George wondered. 

"Well, maybe he's not."

"He's not Hitler," a woman said from behind him. They turned around to find a pretty German receptionist standing behind them. "Trust me, that man is not Adolf Hitler. How  
would that even work? Would he have escaped and lived under a false identity for nearly twenty years."

"Yeah," they all answered at the same time. 

"Boys, this man may have been a Nazi--"

"I knew it!" John exclaimed. 

"But he is not the fuhrer."

"He can still torture people," John whispered to the others. 

"Well, if that's true, then why didn't he torture you? You see, just because someone was apart of regime that tortured and murdered millions of innocent people based solely on their religion, does not mean that they are prone to that sort of behavior the rest of their lives."

"Are you defending Nazis?"

"No, I'm saying that Dr. Daflo may have a checkered past, but that doesn't mean that he can't treat people with kindness now."

"But he's still crazy!" Paul exclaimed.

"Yeah, that's true. But at least you know he's not Hitler." 

The boys shrugged.

"Now, run along. You don't have to worry about this business any longer."

The boys headed home and tried to push it out of their mind. They weren't successful. 

That night, just as Paul was starting to fall asleep, John shook him awake. 

"Paul, I just remembered something."

"What?"

"We never found out what was supposed to happen on November 3rd." 

"Oh yeah, what was that all about?"

The next morning they got their answer. It was in the paper the next morning. Local dentist Dr. Daflo ran off the previous night, leaving his whole practice behind. The boys thought this was quite a suspicious thing to do. 

"Good thing we don't have to worry about it anymore," John said. And the boys agreed. Next time one of them gets a toothache, they're gonna get a dentist who didn't fight in the war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with this story for so long. I've had fun writing it and I hope you all had fun reading it. I'm sorry for the long wait. I hope it was worth it. Love you all :)


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